


Fibonacci numbers

by lady_in_aquamarine



Category: Ghostbusters (2016), The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Backstory, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-09-15 19:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9252713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_in_aquamarine/pseuds/lady_in_aquamarine
Summary: The universe is full of different numbers. Everything you need is to find the right chain.Fibonacci numbers are the numbers in the following integer sequence, characterized by the fact that every number after the first two is the sum of the two preceding ones.





	1. Chapter 1

### Zero. 

She is used to have no friends. It’s okay, she’s got her books, her own, sometimes psychedelic vision of the world and her father, who is working as a charley in shopping mall, cause he has insomnia caused by PTSD, that he is trying so hard to hide. You know, Urgent Fury Operation couldn’t just pass by without any consequence. Cassandra has got neither mother nor stepmother. Elisabeth Cillian died long time ago and, as her father says, nobody would be ever able to replace her. 

So his daughter is always on her own in the nights, fighting with monsters under her bed and in her closet since she was two. It’s hard to sleep, hard to even breathe in empty flat, with all those thoughts going through her mind. Sometimes pain in her head becomes so unbearable, that she wants to get father’s gun from closed filing cabinet and blow out her brains, but she can’t do this. Her father has nobody but her. So instead of planning suicide, Cas (oh, please not Cassie again) draws by watercolors numbers she hears around her, all of them, listening to radio forecasts for brokers, news, even cooking shows, and it helps a little bit.

She is only twelve, but she knows that there is something wrong with her. Nobody around doesn’t hear music of science, they don’t see splashing action-art-like paintings of numbers in the very corners of their eyes. Papa says that it’s called synesthesia, but others prefer just to call her crazy. She knows it since primary school, when she had tried to explain her vision of the world to a boy she really liked, the one she wanted to be friends with. But instead of showing some understanding – he called her Lydia Deetz and pushed her to the floor. Since that time Cas hates boys, they are rude, stupid and stubborn and also she hates girls, because all they are interested in is new film with Brad Pitt or Baywatch new episode– not physics or mathematics she such good at. She has zero friends, and all she wants – to get Dana Scully’s job one day.

### One. 

Jillian Holtzmann is alone in a crowd: seventh kid, the youngest one, and the only girl in this huge Irish family, excepting mummy. Her world is full of testosterone, bubble-gum cards, brothers’ girlfriends hiding under beds, football stars and baseball matches. According to men’s opinion, the best theme to discuss during Saturday dinner is Pamela Anderson breasts, or if mother is protesting again (oh, come on Jenna, they all are almost grown-ups!) – cars. The only way for girl to survive in this boor’s mob is becoming one of the boys. So she does her best and even overcompensates.  Maybe she spends too much time in garage helping dad and brothers to scrape a living instead of playing with dolls like other girls, but who the hell cares if in her ten she knows which conkout produce which engine ping?

Her hair is always gathered in a bun, she smacks of smoke and gasoline, sometimes pine-tar soap. She wears the hand-downs of her brothers, sweaters and T-shirts mostly but not only them. Telling the truth, Jillian doesn’t like dresses and skirts, they make her feel like a black sheep. All her friends are boys, but she definitely knows, that none of these friendships will last forever. Boys just tolerate her presence, cause her father’s garage is the only place around, where they can play with real aluminum swords. The older she gets the more jealous of her they become. She is the clever one, and she’s a girl – no matter how hard she tries not to be.

One day she has just started to introduce herself as Holtz neither Jillian nor Jill, it is much more easy, cause she finally got proper messy haircut. Even adults, especially teachers, sometimes can’t say whether girl is in front of them or not.

Also Jill’s life is full of music – she hears it everywhere she goes, even in a silence. So she put on headphones and turns radio or tape on to become normal. And she dances a lot, coping Michael Jackson and other MTV stars.

### One.

Cassandra stays at hospital for one week in beginning of September. It is just a matter of time for doctors to find out how really seek she is, but she’s already prepared for worst.  Her mum died of cancer, so according to statistics her chance to get one increases twofold. The only thing Cassandra doesn’t really like about being here instead of visiting school is that everyone in class saw her passing out during Maths test. Her nose was bleeding for almost hour and a half before they stopped the issue.  She's fifteen and her world is crumbling into dust.

Jill has just turned fourteen, and she got into St Francis hospital because an engine she was trying to upgrade has blown up. But some bruises and concussion she got as a result totally worth it. Her bed is not the only one in hospital ward, so she had to share it with some silent girl that is as white as radioactive snow. First, when she got here in a middle of the night she hasn't even realized that there is somebody else. Cassandra sleeps most of the days or just lies. Her eyes are often closed but the things she is whispering sometimes during making notes in her huge notebook are not that crazy as they might be. As far as Holtzy understands this girl is as fond of physics as she is but she is theorizing instead of practicing. 

\- Seven is violet, - Cassandra says in the middle of third of the day, she is totally cocooned in her own thoughts.

\- Actually, it's navy blue, - replies Jill from her bed without any doubt. She has just reached her previous goal in Tetris and she’s too happy for controlling what she is exactly saying. She’s not allowed to play video games, even reading is banned but she’s just breaking the rules. Again. However, she doesn’t care that her all day through playing is the real reason why she still can’t get up without organ music violating her head.

\- Sorry? Did you just say something?

\- Seven is not violet, it’s navy blue, like jeans. That about other numbers? – Holtzy has jumped on her feet ignoring cacophony in her ears, - Sorry for freaking out… Haven’t seen another synesthete yet.

\- Six is indigo. Five is blue, - mumbles the girl, - they all are shades of cool.

\- Cool, - she confirms. – Mine from zero to nine: sparkling black, bloody red, aqua, apple green, yellow, orange, bright pink, navy blue, apricot and finally number nine is fuchsia.

\- Colorful.

\- Awful, sometimes I feel like am mad, especially when music appears.

\- Me too. Mad as… Hatter.

\- Beetlejuice,- says Jillian in the same time, and they start laughing without any particular reason.

### Two.

The very last symbol in Cassandra’s phone number is two. Red. And her hair color is something between strawberry blonde and ginger, so she’s defiantly redhead. If Holtzy has needed a sky-sign here it is. But she’s peeking up phone handset for like a billionth time, and hangs up in the middle of dialing. Cassandra asked her to call when they let her out of hospital, but she’s feeling a little bit… afraid. She has never had a friend, who’s a girl.

\- Don't act like a silly little girl or let me make a call, Ashlie is waiting, - her elder brother sneers, he is so cocky, that Jill wants to punch him in his face.

\- Over my dead body, cutie, - she dials number till the very end putting out her tongue. Cas answers after second tone, so Jillian doesn’t hear that brother calls her silly little girl for one more time.

\- Hello, - Cassandra’s voice sounds depressed and tired.

\- Hello.

\- Hello, - Holtz’d bet her life that Cas has smiled in this moment. Of cause, a girl like her didn’t think that hospital mate would call.

\- Hi… I feel like I need to say something else, but I can’t. Out of thoughts. Can we meet?

\- Sure. Tuesday, like…  five pm? It’s easiest day at school, - it sounded like an apology - Where?

\- Let it be the slab.

\- You mean GE Building? It’s in the middle of nowhere. Manhattan. And we are in Nassau County.

\- The other slab, do you really don’t know what I’m talking about?

\- Em, yes.

\- Well, I’ll show you then. Actually, we can meet near ozzie, – she copied quaint English accent.

\- So hospital, sounds like a bad idea, but I can’t beat it, it’s logical. We both know this place.

\- Vulcan logic activated? – giggles Jill, pinching her nasal bridge between thumb and index finger. Her eyes are gritty again.

\- Can’t quite understand you, is it from science fiction?

\- Star trek. Nevermind, just nerd boy’s stuff, I’ll explain, but it seems that you have never watched TV.

\- I watch X-files, - objects Cassandra resentfully.

\- Just hold that thought till Tuesday, or we’ll melt the phone.

\- What’s wrong with X-files?

\- I do adore them. We’ll melt the phone, if I start talking about them. See ya the day after tomorrow.

\- Till Tuesday, then.

Cassandra hangs up the phone, quite sure that this does-not-matter-how-to-name won’t last long. They don’t have much in common with this girl who’s calling herself by a part of last name, except grapheme-color and kinetic-acoustic synesthesia and love of math and physics.  Although, some marriages were built on less basis of similarity. 

### Three

They meet at least three times a week and spend together at least three hours doing completely different homework for different teachers. But even silence near Holtzmann is somehow comfortable, and they both don’t need to hide their strangeness from each other. It is okay to say that there is mi of greate octave inside this equation or stuff like that without being mocked.

She cuts her nails to the quick and paints them pink and blue in order to hide that they are damaged and almost yellow. She wears long-sleeved blouses even it’s more than warm in March. She barely can eat; even smell of food makes her sick. She has already lost about a third of her weight and she keeps losing it. And sooner than she thought, as falling out begins, Casandra has to cut her hair. She starts wearing wigs, ginger close to her natural hair first, than blonde and curly one.

Jillian still doesn’t ask anything. She just winks her the next time they meet at their roof, putting of her hood in the same time. And Cas can’t help laughing - Jill somehow dyed her perfect auburn hair blonde too. Holtz says that now they both look a bit German, so she decides to pick up German language class for her next semester. Cassandra feels like the same hair color makes them even closer to each other. She’s so naïve.

But her secret is such a weight on her heart. «Secrets keep you safe» as well as «ask no questions and you get no lies» doesn’t work here. And she is about hating her only friend for not asking any personal questions.  Cas just needs someone to place confidence in. But she really couldn’t come up with a way she can let the cat out of the bag.

The moment presents itself when they have walk along new Chinese restaurant - it smells a lot. This spicy choking odor punches her straight in stomach in a second and that’s it. She is coughing and coughing till she finally throws up her dinner right on footworn pavement.

\- Have you eaten something wrong?

Cassandra makes a sign of negation.

\- I think I’d never get used to this, - she replies, trying to straighten up, while her legs are still shaking. Truth or consequence. Her turn.

\- Did he even call you back? – asks Holtz carefully, her voice is so…Cassandra really can’t find the right word to describe.

\- No… - she blurts out, clamping her mouth by her left hand.

\- Asshole, - verdict of guilty is given in a blink of an eye, - Does your father know? Or you are going to hide pregnancy till…

\- No. No. No. – interrupts Cas right in the middle,- Holtz, _we_ are not expecting a child.

Her voice is so loud, that one of passing pedestrians disapprobatory turns round. Sure, they don’t look like normal teenagers.

\- Can you keep this secret? - adds she in undertone unbuttoning and rolling up her sleeve.  Her veins are bulging and junky.

\- Anything you want, fox.  I am a "vault".

\- I’m not pregnant. I’ve got brain tumor.  All you’ve just seen is a result of chemotherapy.

\- Kinda surmised something. But thanks for saying it loud, - Jillian doesn’t look shocked, she just smiles sadly for a second before giving her a ragdoll hug, - And did you really said w-word?

\- If I ever got a child, I’d ask you to be a godmother.  So, yes, I said w-word.

\- Oh, please don’t ask me to a godmother for something you’re going to give birth to, unless it’s gonna be Data.

\- I hate babies…- she confesses for one more time this day, and Jillian bursts into peals of laughter, - Why are you creasing up?

\- Just a stupid thought… If we’d create android one day… together would it count us like we are gay mums?

\- Think so, but I’d be daddy-like.

\- Why are you daddy? It’s me dressing up like a drag king. Thanks for my six bros.

\- It’s you about curing mechanical hearts.

### Five

It’s been five months since Cassandra’s chemotherapy is canceled. And Halloween evening is coming. Actually, they both prefer 31st of October to 25th December.  No matter how they adore Christmas, Halloween is the only day in the year when being a freak or an odd bird is socially acceptable. But Jill really thinks she’s overdone with her suit, cause excepting her hair, she’s Lydia Deetz. Lydia Deetz in fucking red bobbinet dress, who is now starring in the mirror.

Cassandra told her, that she’s pick up her at six, but it’s quarter past six, and she hasn’t shown up yet. So Jillian is hurry and scurry about the living room and her bedroom. What if that something has happened to Cas, and she’s just sitting here? Her brother – the last one, who hasn’t gone somewhere else, cause he’s grounded, is still grinning on a coach, showing his fake and bad-made vampire teeth – the only thing his costume is made of.

\- Jill got a boyfriend, – teases he in a high pitched voice, and the more he’s doing it the more furious Jillian gets. What the hell is going on? Her palms are getting sweaty, she even fells her heartbeat in her throat.  And her ears we full of church bell ringing. That’s horrible.

Finally the doorbell rings, and her heart sinks into her shoes.

\- I'll open, - shouts Jill without any particular reason, running towards the front door.

\- Whatcha think about this? – pants Cassandra out in a deep gruff voice. It takes a second or two for Holtz to realize, that she dressed up like Beetlejuice, even though they hasn’t discussed couple costumes. They haven’t even told each other what they were going to wear.

\- Well… how are you going to wash off all this make-up? – Jill makes equivocal gesture near her face.

\- It’s watercolors and tons of powdered sugar. I hope it doesn't rain, - waves Cas. The voice has already become normal.

\- Shall we go?

\- Damn Lyds… if only you knew what you were doin’ to me,- is the last sentence, Jillian’s brother hears, before the door slams.

\- Well, «Jill got a girlfriend» doesn’t sound great at all, - and he’s totally right. The worst thing you can imagine – is being gay in catholic school.

\- I really hope that police won’t be interested in us, telling the truth, I can’t drive without someone who’s 21 in car, - says Cassandra closing the door and belting up.

\- So are we law breakers?

\- Yeap, but only if we’ll get caught… Just pull harder, it sometimes seize up, -  advises she, realizing, that Jill can’t do the same thing.

\- I’m pulling.

\- Wrong direction. Up then down… Exactly – she grins approbation and adds with a chortle,-  Good girl.

\- I ain’t dog.

\- Have no idea, what you are talking about, puppy eyes.

\- You know…

\- Don’t.  Just don’t... Dad’s really not interested in getting flying car back.

\- Flying isn’t quite possible in this car body. Too heavy and floppy, - Holtz runs her fingers over dashboard, imagining what she might make, - but with some fine tuning…

\- Don’t you dare, - Cassandra grasps Jill’s wrist on half way to her side, without thinking what she’s going to do next.  It looks awkward. And it’s not the first time when they get stuck in such uncomfortable silence.  It happens much too often for ignoring, but they keep doing it.

\- As you wish, but let go of my arm. It hurts.

\- Sorry, - Cas turns red in the face, noticing crescent nail marks that she has left. Something is defiantly about to go wrong. She’s pretty sure, that they will quarrel in two or three days, and according to theory of chances, they ain’t gonna reconcile. Their chances are between slim and nil. They don’t have anything excepting their friendship that makes them meet each other. No mutual friends, different classes and even different schools.

\- Don’t mind, they’ll be gone in a minute, - Jill turns the key on her left and starts the car, - We are already late.

\- Gonna show up like Cinderellas.

\- Whether it’s your plan I’m your man, - Jillian begins to sing.

\- You’re out of key.

\- Not, if it’s Elton John’s version. Haven’t heard yet?

\- Don’t like it. Too rose-colored.

Another uncomfortable pause starts. You could cut that atmosphere with a knife, so the easiest way to fill it is just put the radio on. But radio is also awful with «Living Next Door to Alice» everyone is fed up playing, so Jill reverts the eyes, looking in the window.  They both live on Long Island, and both are so good at physics that getting scholarship to Ivy League College won’t be difficult at all.  Less than in a year, in May, Cas will end school and leave somewhere else. She’s already mentioned that she’s choosing between Princeton and University of Pennsylvania. Neither Columbia nor Cornell in her list. Cassandra is not going to stay in Big Apple… _with her_. Sorry, what? That was not a good thought.

She watches ashamedly her friend out of the corner of her eyes; Cas still looks off colour: thin as a rake, so pallid even without this stupid make-up, but, yeap, she’s still celebrating life in her own way: thrumming rhythm on steering wheel, some short bright red hairs out of her blonde wig, huge old-fashioned ring on right hand. Jill doesn’t know how she would act like, if she was such sick, as Cassandra.

\- It’s the first prom I’ve ever… - begins she shyly.

\- Mine too, - cuts Cas off and then adds quieter, - haven’t got a pair.

\- I’ve always turned boys down. I know _how_ proms end. And I’m sure, that my brothers asked all of them to ask me out. But what’s wrong with you? Like… you are cute…

\- No one needs ginger minger. I often faint during calculations, just can’t control all connected memories, and they keep coming and coming in knock-on effect. You haven’t seen this yet, thanks Lord.

\- Is it in case of your…

\- Suppose so, I’m not that confident in medicine yet. And we’ve reached. Wanna see a parking trick?

\- Not sure, – says Jill but it’s already too late. Casandra smiles like a psycho and steps on the juice instead of closing the throttle.

\- Hold tight! – yells she, twisting the wheel to the left, as she pulls the bench hammer. Car goes half of circle with tires screeching, and stops right between two cars. It takes a second to Holtz to realize that she’s still holding her breath.

\- Wow!... it was … - now she’s heavily breathing, and for the first time she doesn’t  hear anything extra, no rhythm no music – nothing but her own heartbeat. She so scared, that can’t even remember her name, and that fantastic. Silence is amazing.

\- Physics in its apotheosis: car speed, friction force and torque capacity. Just a quick test of abilities, - Casandra also pants, and she’s still clawing hold of wheel.

\- You haven’t done this before? – Jill boils over, undoing tether belt with shaking hands.

\- Why should I?... I can calculate everything. Like… everything. – wonders Cas, slyly putting her head on one side. If they were living in «His Dark Materials» her daemon definitely would be fox. And Jill just can’t help staring, –What?

\- Your nose. It’s bleeding.

\- Again… - Cas throws her head back, sniffing,- Can you pass me one of tissues, they’re in glovebox.

It’s just one of those moments that make life actual life, not some soap opera. But this one is bitter. Five minutes later they are crossing the parking getting to Cassandra’s school. It’s rather different from the Jill’s one. It’s public one – not parochial, as hers, so morals here are much more liberal.  They are going upstairs, straight to sports hall, but as they turns round the corner (holding not hands but pinky fingers is just reasonable, because it’s rather dusky, and she doesn’t know the way) they can’t help making wry faces. There is a couple making out in disgusting ripping clothes of way.

\- Sorry, we’ll just give the go-by, - apologizes Cas, blushing with shame, pulling Jill’s hand in order to walk faster.

\- Have fun, - adds Holtz, but moment has passed. The younker is turning around with a broad grin on his face.

\- Jealous of Mary?

\- Not at any rate. According to Sigmund Freud’s works promiscuity is just a way to gain self-esteem, when someone has failed in another area. Come on, Holtz, let’s leave.

\- Did you just call me a looser?

\- Obviously, she did, and you might be stupid as well, cause you need asking this, - Holtz takes step forward and another one to the left, protecting. Well, morons are defiantly in all schools, and they all dressing up like Elvis for Halloween.  There is only one way to stop their bulling – fight back, - and you got lipstick all over our face, slutty buddy. Need a bib?

If Jillian is good at something except physics and engineering, it is men’s psychology, pulling braids was easy. One nickname and this still unnamed guy simmers with anger and frustration.

\- You! – his voice shakes with emotions, as Mary behind him is making a fast retreat.

\- Yes?

\- Nobody needs to be harmed, let us just go.

\- Don’t wanna to pass out in front of your friend? You didn’t even have a boyfriend… poor girl.

\- Holtz, please,- Cassandra holds her hand, pulling, and everything is about being well quit. They have already turned their backs, when he hissed hushfully.

\- Queers.

It takes a second for Cassandra to turn on her heels and punch him in his nose.

\- You can push me round and call me names, but don’t you dare to touch _my_ Jill. No quarter will be given. Rumor has it. Girl broke your nose.

She finishes full circle, takes still shocked Jill by the arm, and goes down corridor markedly clip-clopping her boots.

\- What the hell was that? – askes Holtz, when they finally get to the hall, - like you’ve hulked, but without becoming green monster.

\- I was taught how to protect myself before I was taught how to read. I know how to kill a man with a single punch.  But still it hurts, - she shows galled heavily bleeding knuckles.

\- Wow.  I always get grazes and bruises, and I can tell you this is not normal.  Blood should have started clotting.

\-  It needs more time. The platelet count is still extremely low. And that’s it. I’ll be fine and I’ll bring us punch before it’s over, - Cas’s giving her best fake smile.

\- You always say this, but you won’t…  - mutters Jill, as Cassandra melts into duded up crowd. Lots of witches and vampires, couple of Supermen, but even in fancy dresses they both are sticking out. As usual. Actually, Jill has no idea why they came here instead of doing something useful, for example, dog-sitting.

\- Careful, honey, -  her friend appears out of nowhere. She is so in Beetlejuice part, shamelessly giving petting names, that’s it hard to bear. Cas is passing her one of two red solo cups, that she brought with her, - Entirely sure, that someone has already add some alcohol in it.

She touches her nose by forefinger, sipping a bit and leaving some awfully bright lipstick smudge on her cup.

\- Listen, fox, - Jill has always been a tactile type of person, she couldn’t sometimes control her hands, grabbing, pulling or twisting things, so she hardly realizes that she’s cupping other girl’s face. So it is impossible to break eye contact, till she unburdens her mind. Although Cassandra was still holding two cups in her hands, and not making any attempt to break free, - It’s… it’s not like I mean to hurt you now... But you can’t turn porcelain into steel… You want to control everything - it’s impossible... That stupid showy parking and all others things you’ve done... All of them… You say that you can calculate every single risk, but you can’t calculate live itself… You tumor is the best proof… You changed a lot since I’ve met you… you hoard and hoard knowledge, like… like a dragon hoards gold. An all that knowledge you got in your pretty head leads you on into temptation... You risk and risk, pushing, as you think, far-fetched limits… But they are not far-fetched…It’s better not to use knowledge at all rather use it for evil. And you are turning evil and shut-in… And I beg you not to shut me out…

She takes a deep breath, lowing her hands and stepping backwards, suddenly getting on to the fact that she has come too close. That’s all. Cassandra will kill her right here, as she killed their friendship the moment before.

\- Well, I think it was the longest speech that I’ve ever made. Feel free to punch me, if you want, - adds she shyly, looking at her mum’s shoes that she borrowed.

\- Get out, - growls Cas with her teeth shut. But Holtz can’t really move stopping dead right where she is, - get out, cause I’d rather kiss you now, and it will ruin everything.

\- You'll never know until you try, - Holtz from habit tries to stick hands deep in her pockets, but this dress doesn’t have any. So she just crosses her arms over her chest and winks, they had already passed point of no return.

\- Later… - promises Cassandra, - Don’t wanna kill every single phobe here.

Cassandra really honours her pledge to kiss her this evening. And later, tossing and turning in her bed, Jillian can’t help smiling and touching her burning lips.

### Eight

\- You know, there are only eight girls studying this course.  And you two are defiantly the cleverest ones.  Thereafter, blonde jokes seem to be groundless, - says one of their groupmates catching them in doors.

\- Not natural. Ginger.

\- Brunette. Nothing to worry about.

\- I’m Charles, by the way, that clumsy waving guy other there is Peter… and you are Jillian and Cassandra, as far as I get. We are going to movies this evening, maybe you would like… to join us.

\- Like a date? – Cassandra gives him a toothless grin.

\- Yes… but only if you want to call it this way.

\- It’s seems to me that someone has just lost her bet, aren’t you, honey? – Holtz nods resignedly, putting her hand around Cassandra’s waist and pulling her closer in possessive way.

\- What was the wager? – asks Charles with suspicion, he really doesn’t like neither this «honey» nor this type of hugging.

\- If there is someone horny enough for asking us out. Sorry, Charley, but it won't work out. You and your friend are nice, but… we are…

\- Taken, - outpaces her Jill.

\- «Taken» like really taken, or «taken» like you «never get a chance». Tell the truth.

\- Both, - laughs Jillian, - really sorry, but both.

\- Not our type at all, - adds Cassandra, and chastely kisses his cheek. Jillian repeats the same from another side, before she leaves.

\- But what’s wrong with us? – askes he perplexed.

\- It’s not you, that’s us…

\- …and it’s one of rare moments when this not an empty phrase, - continues Holtz, doing two-finger salute.

\- I don’t think that he took a hint, - says Cas, as they are far enough from others.

\- You want to make another embarrassing small talk which would for sure include explaining concept of homosexuality to virgins? – the last word Holtz nearly cries out.

-Holtz! No, it all was enough awkward for me.  - Cassandra pulls her up, and tries to change the subject,- And did those kisses make us five on the Kinsey scale?

\- I still feel like six, and as far as I know it only counts sex, not making out, - teases Jillian, adjusting her beg strap, - But comparing to stereotypes you look quite straight. You are wearing makeup and dresses, and have long hair.  And there is me: bi-haircut, in jeans overalls and Patrick’s polo shirt.

\- White as ashes without lipstick, raised by lone father as Disney princess and you-know-why used to wigs. And as I told you thousand times before you can wear anything from my wardrobe, but I'm beginning to suspect, what you just don’t want to be feminine.  You bet me a wish. Here it is. For the next week I’ll gonna tell you how to dress up. From underwear to the last hair clip.  

\- No way.  And I don’t wear hair clips.

\- A wish. You said «anything».

\- I was thinking about something more personal… that doesn’t include others, if you know what I mean. 

-Got it, devil, - grins Cas, playfully jostling, - but there is no shame in being afraid.

\- I will have my vengeance. One day I’ll make you do something really horrible.

\- I wish so, but now you’d better get rid of stereotypes. Ellen DeGeneres is not the only one lesbian in this world; at least she needs a pair. Wig, lashes and a dress, I’m not insisting on heels.

### Thirteen

\- I’ll be right here in thirteen hours. From Princeton to New York is eighty two kilometers, even if this job interview will take the whole day, I’ll be fine.

\- Don’t you think that this letter is somebody’s prank? It appeared out of nowhere with no sender's address. And librarian? It’s not even connected with physics, – Holtz squats crosslegged on her bed in a terribly small campus room cluttered up with books, engine parts and work-books, trying to fix digital watch, which she has previously taken to pieces. Even though they both have eidetic memory doctor Gorin requires them to make notes. Quoting: «because you two gonna be brought to an early grave, and this day will come too soon if you keep ignoring workplace safety. You can do anything to your lives, but it would be a great waste for science if everything you create just stays in dead brains. So write all down». 

Though, she also ignores any common sense, drinking tea right in the lab and doing other things that horrify normal students. But, surprisingly, they three get on well, because they are of like mind. So Dr. Goril even allows second-year students to assist her in researches.

\- You are wasting huge amount of time, taking developmental psychology class and is there really acting class on Wednesday, Jillian? – she is looking though their schedules of classes being really curious why this girls are always in a hurry, eating crisps and drinking  coffee from thermos. Twenty hours, but they need only twelve of them,- Oh, I hate you two to the marrow of my bones. Cassandra, damn it! Glasses first, then laser «on».

Dr. Gorin is always calm and buttoned up, it’s impossible to put her out of temper, but they have just succeeded in it.

-Sorry! – Cas lowers her eyes in shame.

Somehow this autistic woman with arranaging OCD that kept seven cats in her tiny and gloomy flat became a maternal figure for them.  Especially for Cassandra, who doesn’t remember her real mum. And also they melt her heart, previously taken only by science. 

They’ve even been in her flat. By accident, but who minds?  The got there in order to bring their mentor clothes instead of dress she burn through during experiment.

She warned: «I give you two the keys, don’t you dare to let cats out or touch anything. I’d better go myself, but my colleagues already owe me a grudge, and going thought whole university in half-burned dress totally wouldn’t be appreciated», and was really pleased for respectful not touching anything.

\- Are you sure, that I shouldn’t come with you? You know, I'm available for moral support, - she waits for a second, while Cassandra puts on her lucky dress, and turns face to her, - and fire support too.

\- I’m getting dressed. Not un-.

\- You have plenty of time for both.

Cassandra throws her pillow straight in Holtz face, puts on her brogues, and slams the door before she kisses Jill and loses control of this situation. She’s going back to New York, and she’s going to get this job, because this letter somehow gives her some butterflies in stomach.  

Thirteen hours pass like an hour, but two more till Holtzmann got a call last forever.

\- Car crash. She’s in medical coma, - says Cassandra’s father disconsolately, - she passed out right on the highway to New York. Thanks God, she is alive.

Nothing is broken, Cassandra didn’t get hurt much except a heavy blow on her temple and bruised ribs, but it takes a little time to realize that from now she’s no master of her brain. Every single time she’s about counting something, the domino effect of memories just takes her down. She can’t keep studying any more, can’t do anything that can involve thinking no matter how hard she tries. Oh, she really tries the whole semester, reducing her timetable first. So she drops out of Princeton University after Christmas, but stays in town, getting different types of jobs. It takes time to find out, that physicist is not the only one road now closed for her. She can’t be a waitress, can’t sell flowers, and she’s already too old for becoming a model, so Cas ended up mopping floors in a small Italian restaurant. 

Holtz is still not giving up on her, and, telling the truth, it’s the worst thing ever. Not being damaged so hard, that it wouldn’t ever be possible to realize her dream – this: Jillian acting like nothing bad had happened. She also drops most of her classes – she already have ninety presents of credits for her bachelor degree – and gets a job in Irish bar. They move out of campus and rent a tiny bachelor apartment near university. This is how it was supposed to be. This is _not_ how it was supposed to be.

### Twenty one

October the tenth. She’s turning twenty one tomorrow. It’s age of majority in every single state of this country. From tomorrow she would be able to do whatever she wants as long it’s not against the law. Her coevals usually have kikies/parties (underline what you’d prefer) of even travel to Vegas, but all she wants is to lie in bed and cry whole day though.

Five years ago she was a quiet happy teenager with life's dream of becoming someone, who'll get into history books. Then she’s become this –a woman whose life’s has been altered forever. You can’t turn porcelain into steel. Never. She is made of china, and reality already smashed her against the wall.

\- Hurry up! - Cas’s setting spurs to Jill, who defiantly would prefer staying at home with her to going to boring seminar in the early morning.

\- I won’t be late, - Holtz drinks coffee, fenced herself off by a scribal copy of book, god only knows where she got from. Her bare feet placed on vacant chair, and she looks a mess, with her hair uncombed, and smeared yesterday’s make up on, but yet she’s still handsome as hell, - if everyone is late, nobody cares.

\- I care, actually.

\- Sometimes too much. Be a little bit more selfish, - she puts empty cup back on the table, and turns the page. -  Hey, It’s my turn.

\- No… - objects Cassandra, still fetching cups and plates from the table, when she catches judgmental eye over the book, -  Yes. But don’t mind.

\- Selfless, – mouths Holtz and puts aside her manuscript, - Love you.

\- Just go, nobody is going to wait for you, - she puts tableware in the sink and turns the water on, listening Holtz singing along to the radio, while she gets dressed.

\- Gonna be late today, I’ve got my shifts in bar changed, so I can spend the whole day with you tomorrow, - throws she over her shoulder, as she fastens her hair into tails.

\- Great, see you! – answers Cas without turning around and it’s the last words that Jillian has ever heard from her. By the time she gets home at about 2 am there isn’t any tiny sight that Cassandra has ever lived in this apartment. She’s taken everything that belongs to her, except some blouses they used to share and a steel ring, which now lies on the coffee table near short letter she’s also left. Selfless, she always cares too much.

  _By time you read this, I’ll be gone. Far away, if everything goes right. I beg you not to look for me, because I always been bad at playing hide-and-sick. I don’t think, what I’ll ever love someone so hard, as I love you, but what is love? Wishing the other one only the best. I’m totally sure, that I’m not the best girl, that you ever meet on your way._

_I wish I was good enough for you, but I’m not. Never was, actually. The more I look at you the more jealous I become. And that green-eyed monster keeps whispering in my ear horrible things. I’m just a dead weight you are pulling. As far as I know you, you’d never leave me, no matter how hard staying might become. So it’s not me forsaking you, it’s me setting you free._

_Forever yours,_

_Cassandra._

Jillian keeps ringing on Cassandra's mobile phone for two months, before she gives up. She doesn’t pick up any new or old number, she calls Cassandra’s father several times, but he tries to convince her, that he doesn’t know where his daughter is. It’s a terrible lie.


	2. Chapter 2

### Thirty four

Abby is thirty four when she meets Jillian for the first time. Dr. Holtzmann, rumor has it, is brilliant engineer which was kicked out NASA. There was a huge fire she set on her workplace during some express tests, and one of her ex-coworkers is still in coma. So she’s done the only thing that proud Irish girl can do instead of returning to Princeton and asking Dr. Gorin to take her back – come back home. Holtzmann came back home, bit her tongue and nowadays helps dad. There is always much work to do in garage. If any chance for getting this level engineer in Higgins Institute exists – it’s this situation. Abby has already signed all documents for getting help with her research – the just needs someone weird enough to believe her, since her old friend gave up.

Silly, how it all turned out.  Long time ago she was the only one, who believed Erin, but nowadays Dr. Gilbert is trying so hard to fit in science community, that she forgot that real science is indeed walking on the edge of danger. Well, Dr. Yates, whom Abby became, can do it alone. She can prove ghost existence, but, unfortunately, there are lots of things in which she’s not confident enough.

Abby gets out of cab, which brought her to the suburbs – long way from her common paths.  She shakes her head and slowly walks towards garage boxed in an old brick brew house with two added stories as she sees an old man smoking outside the open gates.

\- Excuse me, I’m looking for Dr. Holtzmann…  - Abby asks him carefully.

\- Which one, sweetheart? – The man snubs out his cigarette and winks at her.

\- Em…  - her eyes opening wide. Did she just imagine this tone? – I don’t know the first name. It starts with «J».

\- You are Carol, right? James left for Chicago this morning, but he left some handwritten instructions for you.

\- I’m Dr. Abbigail Yates and I’m looking for a woman… - it’s not the first time when someone takes her as secretary or assistant, but still she gets annoyed with such things.

\- Oh, I see…- he takes a deep breath and cries out so loud, that Abby’s ears pops on for a second, -  Jillian Madalena Hotzmann! Get your drunken ass here. There is a handsome woman downstairs and she wants to talk!

Instead of answer they get a clinking noise somewhere inside the building and a phone call. It takes almost half a minute for the man to figure out how to pick it up.

-If it’s not her or spiritist I’m staying right where I am. Just leave me alone and let me die in my own bed. Okay? – says spiritless voice.

\- Well, she is inside, and in a good mood today. Come in, doc.

\- If it’s a good mood…- Abby turns around, suddenly realizing that the man is not going to show her the way.

\- In bad days, when someone from her past pop up, she tries to kill him, herself and us in the same time by arranging explosions. Till she returned I had no idea, how many things can really blow up in a car repair. Thanks God, I have only one daughter… Go, then. We can chat later.

So Abby comes in, trying to find her way upstairs in dingy workshop. There are four cars inside, half-stripped for inspection. One of them is jacked up, and there is a pair of blue kitten heels showing from underneath.

\- Hey, can you hear me?

No answer.

\- You know, it’s Saturday, so I can spend the whole day standing here.

No answer again.  Woman was ignoring her and kept on repairing.

\- Well, you mentioned that you interested in spiritism. I’m not one of them… I’m better.

\- Don’t bother Patrick, he’s in headphones and doesn’t hear you, - the same apathetic voice came somewhere from the split level, - Dad said you were looking for me. Why?

This coming down wonky metal ladder girl looks awful.  Sleepy blondish hair, man’s bagged jeans and white half-bottomed oversized shirt are not the only signs that she is in a black hole of depression. She reeks of cheap alcohol and sweaty body. There is a huge purple hickey on her collarbone.  Also this woman seems to be too young for someone with a Phd.

\- I’m doctor Yates. I’m here for offering you a job.

\- I stay here. You go.

\- Aren’t you even going to listen to me? – Abby has to turn around for one more time, as woman passes her and comes to the uplifted car.

\- Yeap, - says Jillian, popping the last syllable, she taps the motor hood and waits, - Nothing personal, but I’ve got a work to do. If only I find my glasses. Honey, did you…?

A young man, maybe a year or two older then her, crawls out and silently gives her a pair of yellow mirror glasses from his own head without even pulling out his headphones.

\-  Thanks.

\- You are welcome. And nice love bite.

\- Shut up!

\- Can’t hear you. Headphones, - grins man and returns to his place under the car, pushing himself by his blue shoes.  Abby just can’t help starring at them, though she knows, that’s rude.

 - So, you’re still here, - exhales Jillian.

\- I ain’t gonna leave till you give me your ears for a couple of minutes. I have no idea how posttraumatic syndrome looks like, but this is not a place where one of the best Princeton graduate should spend her life.

\- You are wasting your time, honey. I’m already on a highway to hell.

\- I don’t hear AC/DC playing in this case, - Abby drops this without any doubt, cause she’s getting really annoyed with this stubborn girl.  She’s gonna let everything out before she leaves.  But in arse about face way the very corner of Jillian’s mouth has pulled up a little bit after this phase. It’s not a smile, but it might be. Ice is breaking.

\- It’s playing deep inside my head. Got a terrible hangover, - says she very serious. Abby prefers not to engross in thought that Dr Jillian Holtzmann is defiantly the craziest person she has ever met.

It takes a lot of time for them to get used to each over and to draw lines. Jillian isn’t asking anything about Erin and their backstory, which led to the book, she isn’t asking about necklace, wedding-like ring or a girl, whose name was Cassandra. Sometimes Holtz blunders out some facts that Abby picks up and collects in a special imaginary box in her mind, and according to things she know Cas is Jillian’s ex-girlfriend, who died in car crash. So Abby really understands the reasons why Jill ignores any common sense courting danger.

Jillian involves her in habits of eating straight in the lab and listening to usually rhythmic music so loud that in the end of the day occiput is aching as well as many others. In return Abby shows her strange old-fashioned new wave collection and slowly pulls Hotlz out her suicidal depression, it takes time and lots of effort, so by the time – two and a half years after their first meeting - furious Erin appears in Higgins no one could tell that Jillian is still dead inside.

And no one can predict that stupid pick-up line. Nobody, including Jill herself.

\- That the hell was that? – askes Abby, when Erin finally leaves still spitting out ectoplasm, she’s all covered with.

\- What's up, Doc? We’ve seen a ghost! – Jillian can’t quite calm down, she is jumping like Bugs Bunny and almost doing shimmy, putting her leather jacket of in lab. She points her finger to stack of «Ghosts from Our Past» books. – This is not a theory any more. We’ve got crucial proof.

\- I’m about you acting with Erin…

\- I just tried to be nice, - brushes Jill off, turning on her laptop and plugging camera in.

\- There is a great difference between being nice and flirting someone to death. Let’s see what we’ve got.

\- Cas never minded, - mumbles Holtz, glad to change the subject, - A couple of minutes. It’s copying.

\- Erin is not Cassandra. I know you miss her a lot, but… - Jillian minimizes all open windows, showing one of her desktop pictures, - Oh, shit. Let’s pretend that I haven’t seen this.

But she’s seen. Picture is blurred, as if it’s not a photo, but a screenshot from some old bad-quality video, or much more likely it was scanned and badly photoshopped.  Background is really dark, perhaps, long time ago it was just black curtains of college theater and there are two late teenagers standing on this small stage. One of them is definitely Holtz, though her hair is shot and she is couple of pounds heavier. (Knowing Jill’s habit of denying food while working – no wonder that she put off all that weight) And the other one girl is smirking at her, turned three quarters to the camera. Red hair, turned-down-tip nose, blue eyes – nowadays Erin is around twenty years older than that girl, therefore she looks more like her mother, but dammit they are one type.

  


\- I’ll keep hands to myself. I promise.  I don’t think she’ll return, -says Jill not sure whom she's talking about Cassandra or Erin as Abby squeezes her shoulder. She doesn’t know how Holtz feels, but for sure she needs some support. While Erin was just a photo on the back of the book it was not so important – how she looked like, but now, knowing Holtzmann demonstrative nature and Erin’s hot temper, Abby is glad that it was just flirting. But in some days Erin returns and «ghostbusting club» starts again.

The next couple of days blur out, because so many things happen. They don’t have enough time for discussing feelings - there is world need to be saved. By the time all calms down Erin is so used to Jill’s harassment, that Abby decides not to let the cat out of the bag. What could possibly go wrong? Erin is straight as ray of light in homogenous environment. They never ever get together.

Then Dr. Gorin shows up in HQ the first thought that springs to Abby’s mind that this woman is real Jillian’s mother, though she met Jenna Holtzmann a couple of times before. Even Holtzmann’s hiccup introducing Rebecca to her and Erin makes everything a little bit more psychedelic.

\- And we are dating, - a second later Holtz lines out this so easily and surely, and in that very moment Abby’s heart sinks into her stomach. It’s not right trying to replace old and gone love with someone surrogate instead of getting over and moving on and it's not fair to the person you choose as this replacement. But it’s already too late. It’s too late for warning Erin about ghost-girlfriend packed with Holtz. Likely, everything turns out as a stupid joke. But the way Dr. Gorin quirks her eyebrow says that she didn’t buy this messy swing-back.  Just before she leaves she gets Erin for a tête-a-tête.

\- Sure, - says Erin after some doubts, as the older woman asks her for help in catching taxi and they go out of the former firehouse.

\- Dr. Gilbert, I think it’s my burden to spoil everything… I have no idea what’s happening or happened between you and Jillian that she claimed that you two are dating.  But I beg you to be careful, she’s is not that strong as she looks like and she’s not quite herself since Cas left our world. I don’t think she’ll ever get over this.

\- But Dr. Gorin I’m straight…

\- It sounds for me more like denying. You are saying it too loud, as you aren’t sure yourself.

\- And who is Cas?

\- If she didn’t tell, I can’t do it too. You know, it's quite pretty outside this evening. I think I’d rather take a train. Doctor Gilbert, it was nice to meet you, - Rebecca shakes her weak hand and leaves, whistling something familiar.

Erin comes back to HQ a little bit frustrated. Dr. Gorin said «left our world» - it surely means that someone from Holtz’s past died. Well, this would explain why she hanged out with Abby. She was just trying to find out if there is afterlife. But how much more skeletons are in Jill’s closet?

She waits for entire four months before she decides to ask Abby.

\- Who’s Cas?

\- You should go out sometimes… And watch less TV… Netflix and take-out food is _my_ way of spending evenings. Okay. Let’s see whom you are talking about. It was Thursday yesterday… So I presume you run across premier of «Supernatural» season. Good choice, actually. But you are like eleven seasons late. Castiel is a fallen angel, ex-God oh, you have to watch before you understand the whole concept.

\- No, I’m not talking about strange hunters’ soap-opera.

\- So, whom are you asking about then?

\- I don’t know…  - Erin folds her arms,- I thought that Hotlz is PMSing before she said that it was Cas’s birthday this week as a reason she is blowing up everything more often, then always. And then she set my desk on fire. Again. I swear this time she did this on purpose.

Abby turns water on, washing her empty coffee cup and lowing her voice, - As far as I know Cassandra was the only one person Holtz has ever dating longer than a one-night-stand. She died in car crash around twenty-oh-five.

\- Auch. Eleven years. It was long time ago. Do you think she still loves her?

\- Don’t know, she was a mess when we met, and she’s still a mess, but a little bit more arranged.

\- But ain’t she beautiful?  - wonders Erin.

\- Gal, it was really gay… Who are you and where is Erin? – teases Abby.

\- I’m here, just… - anything she was about to say stayed unspoken, cause something went wrong upstairs. There was a huge - felt like an little earthquake -  bang and next there was pungent black smoke trailing down ladder bit with no usual outpacing panic attracts: «I’m fine!» coming from Hotlz.

Who the hell in right mind could call Jillian Holtzmann a beautiful mess? She’s ain’t a mess she is a natural disaster. Something  a lot more dangerous, then hurricane Katrina that smashed south-east in twenty-oh-five. Erin’s heart skips a beat. What if Cassandra didn’t die in a car crash? Lots of people die in car crashes – it’s such a convenient lie. Nobody asks for details. She concentrates on this though, when she doesn’t feel Jill’s pulse under her fingers on wrist but she finds it on Holtz's neck- heartbeat seems too weak. But she’s alive. Thanks God, she’s alive.

Erin, as well as Patty and Abby, has gone home from the hospital really late in the evening. Doctors say it would take time for Holtz to recover consciousness and there is no reason for them stay here. Jill had three concussions before so no one can predict future consequences. Erin tries to sleep, but she can’t – old nightmares come back. She sees ghost of the old lady that lived next door.  Ghost that started everything is standing next to her bed in old parents’ house in Michigan. She’s child again. So scared. 

Erin sits on her bed, feeling heart in her throat and catching her breath.  It was a bad dream. Just a bad dream. She picks up her phone from nightstand, thinking about phoning someone, but it's 4 am. It’s either too late or two early. Erin sinks back against sweaty and already cold pillows and turns her head on the other side. There is a stranger in her bedroom. Erin lets out another scream on a top of her lungs, which freezes in some kind of blue light. It’s another type of light, not the same as was in ghost portal – green one mostly, but also most certain paranormal too.

\- Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you, - woman whose face is still covered in shadow is sitting in armchair turned back to window and she doesn’t move, but her voice is calm and charming. The only thing Erin sees clearly is her shoes: old-fashioned black and purple (red in fact) pair, looking like a one for tap dance, - I’m not sure if there are certain rules about showing presence before appearing in women’s bedrooms. In my time… It’s not my time any more, though magic is back to this world. But be careful with you gift. Knowledge always leads to temptation of using it for … things.

\- What the fuck are you talking about? – Erin has tried to stand up, but failed. Her body no matter how hard she tried wasn’t moving an inch. 

\- Language…

\- I don’t care. One of my friends is somewhere between life and death, you kidnaped me in you sparkling world. I want answers not a sermon.

\- Oh, you’ll find out soon…  And you don't have to worry that much. Charming won’t let Jillian to die.

And that’s all Erin has got. Illusion disappeared leaving her with no explanations, no answers just a splitting headache when she has woken up in the morning.

During the time Erin is getting ready, she makes an attempt to analyze that she has seen this night. It wasn’t a typical dream, but that woman also doesn’t seem like a ghost, even class-seven are more hyaline. Real person should have left some signs of forced entry, so she double-check all windows (closed) and the door (lock is closed, no scratches, door-chain on its place). By the time she get to the hospital  Erin reassures herself  that this was a dream forced by emotions caused by Jill’s injury, mystical Greek name and Dr. Gorin’s warning.

She takes the elevator instead of stairs. Doors open slowly on the right floor. There is a woman waiting outside. Doctor or intern – it’s hard to understand cause her hair is up in messy hairdo and face is covered by surgical mask. But in the same time her white coat is unbuttoned, showing polka dot blouse with both piter pen and bow collars and tweed shorts. After Erin goes out woman silently comes in, holding huge old folio book in front of her. Just some usual situation, but without any reason Erin looks over her shoulder.

She has spent enough time surfing Internet and communicating with students for knowing that there are lots of non-verbal ways to ask and answer questions. Especially, personal or sex questions. She knows hanky code by hard, meaning of rings and gestures and she curses herself for this awareness.  It’s something in her eyes, Erin thinks. People see her conversance. That’s why men most often avoid her, presuming her as at least bi. But she is straight and every single time someone gay asks her if she’s in term she blushes, feeling stupid and awkward. Straight people shouldn’t even understand if there was question.

And Erin shakes her head no, when woman in mask markedly shows her two fingers - index and middle;She seems to be a little bit upset about refusal as she presses the ground floor button.  Erin closes her eyes for a second, touching her class ring.

_\- You gotta have a little faith, right? – There is a man staring at her, giving her a hand. She hasn’t seen him before, but Erin somehow knows, that his name is Jake. She’s not in a hospital anymore, she’s somewhere else. Open elevator shaft is right in front of them. And she takes his hand and jumps._

It’s not her memory… Erin turns on her heels wondering if it’s that woman’s memory, but all she sees is closed elevator doors. Curiouser and curiouser. Dream, memories that don’t belong to her what’s next? Isn’t she completely crazy? She makes a few steps, turning the corner and sees Abby siting on low and uncomfortable sofa opposite nurse's station and speaking to a man in grey fustian jacket. The only thing she can do now – put aside her problems and think of Holtz.

\- Any news? Prefer good one, – askes Erin. Man stands up and now she sees the his face. There is something familiar in that sad smile.

\- You should be Erin.  I’m Mark – Jillian’s brother. I’d say «Nice to meet you», but it’s not right circumstances, - he shakes her hand furiously.

\- She didn’t tell that she has a brother; - finally Erin pulls her palm out.

\- It’s typical of her, not telling about any of her siblings.

\- Like you are not the one I had no idea about, - she tries to be nice, but she wants to talk to Abby, not some random stranger with grey around the temples, though he’s Jillian’s blood relative.

\- Six, - says Abby really quite, but then she raises her voice, - Holtz has six elder brothers. And I’m pretty sure than all of them will pop up in coming days.

\- Four more to come. Ricky’s in on the West coast with band.

\- So news?

\- She recovered consciousness half of hour ago and tried to escape in that very moment claiming that she’s fine. Doctor’s testing her now, - rattles Abby off with a great realize.

\- Thanks God! – Erin sits, - The worst is over.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, one more to go, and I'll start actually pulling these storylines closer.

### Fifty five 

Most of his life Jacob Stone lived in shadow. He wanted a normal life, so he created six fake identifies and split up his actual knowledge between them all. So Dr. Oliver Thompson and others were smart, but not that much for being someone in case of whom whole world would turn upside down - just ordinary outstanding scientists. As much ordinary as it was possible to make them in these conditions. And there was identity number seven - real him: cowboy Casanova from Oklahoma, son of hereditary oil rigger.

But one day everything changed because Serpent Brotherhood wanted to see him dead. This adventure leaded him to the real-life Warehouse 13 and as a result he ended up as one of librarians in training among sick as hell betrayer and self-affected thief. Despite this fact he really liked this new job.

Jake liked the way they were helping each other, charring knowledge. Day by day they were getting to know new colleagues through solving different mysteries. Even Colonel Baird’s everyday grueling brutal workouts helped a lot. Eve wasn’t really pleased by their sports state till it came to Cassandra and hand-to-hand fighting.  Jake was really surprised that time too, because most of the time she was just trying to run and hide. And she was really bad at hide-and-seek picking up the worst places to hide.

\- Ok. Some testing. Most painful places to get hit are…  - Colonel was walking from side to side acting like a school teacher for three of them.

\- Oh. I know! I know. – Squeaked Cassandra, jumping for joy even before Eve finished her sentence, - Groin, especially for man, nose – it always breaks if you punch from the bottom up, solar plexus and instep. Also I’d add throat - Adam's apple to be accurate and kidney area.

\- Not bad at least theoretical. Jake you first. I’m gonna charge at you. Your job is to block shots. You put your hands up…

It took ten seconds for Eve to flat him on his back. Ezekiel didn’t last much longer.

\- Cassie, your turn.

\- I don’t like this… Someone gonna get hurt.

\- It’s the reason why I’m training you all… For you not getting hurt in real situation.

Eve made the first punch, Cassandra dodged left so easily as she’s been doing this whole life before.  In complete silence they were moving in circles, trying to predict each other’s next move.  The next punch colonel made was in rib area.

She noticed too late that it was Cassandra’s feint. There was a hit to the chin Eve missed, weak one, but in right technique.

\- Good punch, - commended Baird, she was used to much more hefty blows.

\- Apple punch, Elvis, red lace, strawberry lip gloss… Jeremy…- muttered Cassandra, not really seeing Colonel any more.

\- You’re sailing away, - Jake gave voice, and Eve threw him a condemnatory glance.

\- Cassandra, quick question. Were you been bullying at school?

\- Dykes like me are always been a good target, - replied Cas in a blink of an eye, taking a step closer.

\- What? - Eve was in such a state of shock, that she seemed to forgot, that the fight is in its midst. It was a mistake of _amateur_. The next second she felt familiar pain in her nose.

\- Sorry… sorry, sorry. Told ya that was a bad idea,- Cassandra panicked, seeing  Eve’s dark blood dripping on the floor. She touched her own upper lip brushing sticky liquid because her nose was bleeding too. Tumor reminded of its existence in that unpleasant way. It doesn’t mean that Stone justified her behavior, but he seemed to understand Cassandra’s aspiration for recovery in magic, as doctors told that her tumor is inoperable case - I’ll bring ice or something.

\- I’ll help, - Ezekiel left immediately on this pretext after Cas rushed through the door, but Jake was pretty sure, that the only reason he left was boredom. He wanted to find something out and tweet about it. Not study hand-to-hand fight. It was no surprise, that Jones didn’t return.

Colonel tilted her head back, sniffing.

\- It was a really well-placed blow. Didn’t expect that from her.

\- Can I have a look? – Asked Jake, feeling uncomfortable in the silence, - you might need stitches.

\- Nose is not broken. Good technique, but weak hands. This is what called fight like a girl.

\- Weak hands? She just hit a former NATO counter-terrorism agent. I’m wondering who has her teacher, - Stone helped Colonel to sit down.

\- As I told I didn’t expect this coming, - hissed Eve pinching wings of her nose and putting her head down.

\- Here you are, - Cassanda joined them on the floor, passing colonel pack of frozen peas wrapped in fabric, - Surprise is half of pleasure or half of pain depends on situation.  When you run into old doll you’ve sold years ago at garage sale it’s amazing, but when you run into your lover going down on someone else… You wish you didn’t come early.

\- Own experience? – asked Eve.

\- No, just lots of soap operas half-watched during night shifts, -she refused.

\- Let me make things clear… Lesbian? For real? – busted Jake up, - But how did you end up like this?

\- And you too… - responded Cassandra quietly as she lurched to her feet. – Gotta find my bracelet before Ezekiel takes it. Ich habe sein im Badezimmer liegen lassen.*

\- Cassandra! – hailed her Eve.

\- Nevermind, - was her only answer, before Cassandra disappeared. Colonel managed to find her in storeroom only an hour later. Lights out. Headphones on. Fingers trifling with really old bracelet.

-  Hey. Are you okay?

A nod. She pulled one of her earphones out. There was some old-fashioned Irish-like music playing. Eve made out cello and piano before Cassanda pressed «stop» on cassette player. Where has she got it?

\- Can I sit?

A nod.

\- You know, Jake didn’t mean to hurt you…

A nod.

\- He…

\- I know that he likes me and I know that I’m adding fuel to the fire letting him to hit on me. But sometimes he’s _so_ like Holtz I just can’t help myself.

\- Strange name. Is she your… friend or…? – word «girlfriend» got stuck in the throat no matter how hard Eve tried to say it loud.

\- Ex,- sighed Cassandra, - She’d be head over heels, if I told her that magic is real thing.

\- Meeting your ex’s never been easy. Trust me.

\- I have no reasons to dispute your thinking. You have greater experience.

\- Why are you so sure? I haven’t dated lots of people, - Colonel spread her arms in helpless gesture.

\- I dated only one. So… you definitely have beaten me, haven’t you?

\- Oh… Is it hers? – she nodded at bracelet, Cassandra was still holding it too careful for something insignificant.

\- Not quite, but kinda yes. Dr. Gorin made three U’s – one for herself, one for Jillian and one for me, a brooch, a neckless and a bracelet. A friendly message for everyone who doesn’t accept us the way we are. «Screw you»

\- It’s not friendly.

\- It’s much friendlier than a punch I used in high school, – pouted she.

\- You loved her?  -asked Eve carefully.

Cassandra shook her head.

\- With all my heart.  Still do, though I haven’t seen her for years.

\- What has happened? Don’t answer, if you don’t want to…

\- It didn’t felt right anymore. Just look at me… Hiding in closet, listening to her brother’s demo tape.  And she as far as I know by now she got her Phd, worked for NASA while I was still mopping floors and undergoing third round of chemotherapy. I can't think of anything more pathetic.

\- She broke up with you,- Eve puckered up her mouth in disgust.

\- No. I did… It seemed like the only thing I could really do for her. Set her free. - Cassandra turned away in attempt to hide tears that were about to stream down her face, - I’m so stupid, Baird… So silly. I…

The last of the sentence was wild inarticulate sobbing.

\- You just need to cry it out… No matter what was the trigger, - Sometimes, living and working with the same people was unbearable. No personal space for things like this. Eve wanted to leave Cassandra alone, so she stepped back out of closet, but not so surprisingly but still unnaturally strong hand pulled her back.

\- Is… it ok … if I… ask you… to stay?

\- Of course, - Baird sat by her side on big dust-covered oak chest.  Couple of minutes passed in uncomfortable heavy silence with them side by side without actual touching.

Indeed, not actually _knowing_ Cassandra’s sexual orientation was a way better. Eve could _guess_ this from her overfeminine doll-like clothes. She could _suspect_ this from her life habits. She could _surmise_ this from her more than cautious long knocking in bathroom they were forced to share. But she _understood_ it from the way Cas was averting eyes and hardly breathing when she got pressed between her body and a wall during one of missions. Did anything change when she finally became sure? Weeks passed since that day. But now, when it was said out loud, Cassandra acted like she has ruined everything by opening Pandora box.

Was there a way to make her feel better? Eve was sure that the best way was not words but behavior. So, to get a little more comfortable and less awkward Colonel hugged Cassandra with her right hand and pulled her closer. The younger woman finally eased her mind. She slowly and carefully put her hands around Eve’s wrist, dumbly asking if she’s crossing unacceptable line. Eve nodded that she doesn’t mind.

\- Thank you, - mumbled Cassandra between silent sobs. Felling tears dropping on her T-shirt wasn’t the best way to pass the time, but maybe for the first time in her live Eve felt that she’s been doing something important.

– Isn’t this my duty as a guardian?

When Cassandra wore up at around six am in the morning she didn’t memorized the way she got in her room or why she felt asleep fully clothed as well as why she was smelling like Eve’s woody perfume. It took a couple of minutes to put one and two together.

\- Stupid girl. So stupid, - she went downstairs to get some water but it was already Jacob in the kitchen. He was an early bird and different time zone only exacerbated this problem. Comparing to her, god only knows how awful she looked like, he had himself sleep out. Well, maybe she was not that thirsty as she thought.

\- Hey!  – It’s too late. Jake has already seen her, - Is everything ok?

\- Yes. Everything is _always_ okay; – she sneaked past Jake and turned on water filter’s tap, fulling the glass.

\- I freaked out yesterday… Just… Oklahoma… It’s really conservative state… and you… say such thing so … easily.

\- Lost your silver tongue? Look, I don’t care about your attitude to me. We don’t have to be friends or even get on well for working together, - Cassandra turned water off, but didn’t turned around avoiding eye contact. In that case Stone stood up from his chair and closed the gap between them.

\- No, it's not about that…  it’s about that too, but this doesn’t come first.

\- Then what does?

\- You are confident in many things, - he sighed, pulling out a feather that tangled up in her hair - but you always expect the worst…

\- It’s life, and as you haven’t noticed yet, it never was a piece of cake for me. Expecting worst makes it way easier to appreciate good things fate gives to you.

\- Can I ask a personal question?

\- You’ll ask it anyway.

\- How did you figure out, that you are the way you are? I’m most certain that you have a mother and a father and you haven’t been raised by a gay couple, have you?

-  My mum died of the same brain tumor I got when I was three. Before that she spent most of the time is hospital so my first and only memory of her is funeral.  

\- I’m sorry. Lost mine not a long time ago, but it’s different.

\- It’s just fact. Nothing to be sorry for …- she took a big sip of water, - I think I knew I’m mostly into girls from the very beginning and my father knew that too. Once, when I was eleven, he said to me, that we don’t fall in love with a gender – we fall in love with a person. And if you find your person – gender should be the last thing you care about.  

\- So you… - he started a sentence, expecting Cassandra to finish it.

\- Kinsey five… Could be six, but I didn’t black out that night in Atlantic-city. I’m pretty sure that after all we’ve done we are banned in all casinos it that city.

\- I don’t want _any_ details.

\- We predicted the outcome of roulette and coop the pool. Then got hella drunk…

\- Less details, please.  Or I’ll start a half- fictional half-not story I heard about Physics Department’s orgies in Columbia Institute.

\- I’ll finish this… - Cassandra saluted him with her half empty glass, -  and lend you my whole ears.

Since that day Jake starts to count. During their missions they often get phone numbers. Some are friendly-like, but some have certain flirty notes. He writes down his in a notebook, Ezekiel puts them in his phone, but Cassandra… Cassandra burns all visiting cards and pieces of paper she gets. She next second they get in Annex and finish their mission she pulls out a cigarette lighter or matches and sets fire. She tries to do secretly, but there is always characteristic smell in her room.

Twenty two... Thirty three…Forty nine… The first number she leaves is the number of Isabelle – that one she won in unofficial competition between them three. Number fifty five. 

He’s watching her routine ritual from the second level leaning on the barrier. He’s not been noticed yet, but it feels like he has found a sextape of a close friend. It’s gross and intimate in the same time, but he can’t help gawking. 

This time she uses fireplace matches.  She strikes one of them and watches the way it burns, putting the box aside and taking piece of paper in her left hand now, match still in her right. Slowly a little spurt of fire goes down and down ‘till it almost touches fingers.  And she blows it out.

\- Not this time, Calcifer.

She furtively puts this note under the cover of her Clippings book and goes away, smiling like an idiot. They don’t talk about this… He’s not even supposed to know about it. But he really likes the way Cassandra finds herself after years of conviction that she’s good for nothing.

\- Whatcha doin’? – There were tons of different prospectuses stored at Cassandra’s table, and Ezekiel looked over her shoulder.

\- Nothing! – squeaked Cassandra, closing that one she was currently reading.

\- «Portland state university» - he pulled up the closest chair and sat, biting an apple, - You already know all that they can teach and much more.

\- It’s not about knowing things. It’s about sharing…

-You worry about Lucy and others like her.   

\- Well… Yes. The next time we… probably won’t be so lucky… It might be too late. 

\- You know you don’t have to go to the college in realty. You can buy me a pint of beer, and I’ll lead you through the backdoor, - Jones took one of booklets and leafed it through. There were marker notes on some pages: physics, mathematics and computers. Nothing new about Cassandra and her interests, -   Any college in any place of this planet.  It would take like five minutes. Eight if you need PhD.

\- I’ll do it my way. Finish last year of bachelor and so on.

\- You were at college? – well, it was a quite surprise, for him Cassandra wasn’t an easily giving up person, but she spent too much time fighting with herself rather that accepting and moving forward,  - I thought you couldn’t… Faints and other things didn’t let you.

\- I was much better before car crash. Spend two and a half years in Princeton. It was time of unorganized hoarding and horning… 

\- Keep going… I want to know all spicy stuff.

\- Please… - Cassanda blushed to the roots of her hair.  Some time ago, maybe a year or so he would had definitely teased the woman until she had run thought the door or slapped him, but now it’s not that interesting.

\- So what about my help? There is hella a lot of reading.

\- Are you that bored?

\- Nothing in the app, nothing in the big book, nothing interesting or complicated enough to steal. So yeah, I’m that bored for helping you to find the best way to save as much credits as possible. Why can’t you just go back to the old one? I don’t think that the Back Door gonna crack if you use it every day.

\- I turned that page… Never gonna return.

\- I don’t ask why, pretty sure that you had sex with one of nowadays professors.

\- Ezekiel!

\- Two? – Cassandra shook her head, still embarrassed. – Three? C’mon… tell me everything.

\- Have you ever thought how it would felt like if you came back home after all these years?

He kept silent for a second, before giving her one of his fake smiles.

\- I’m a man of universe. I don’t need home… But I still need to know something for doing something.

\- Don’t laugh; - Cassandra passed him a copy of her documents, and watched him read.

\- Real hoarding… Well, let’s see what we’ve got, - he pulled out his phone. One of his many phones and dived in Internet. Cassandra didn’t think his way of searching was simply surfing.

_________  
*Ich habe sein im Badezimmer liegen lassen (German) – I’ve left it in bathroom


End file.
